The Writing Year - Year Two: Managers, Lawyers, Producers, Option Agreements, and Giving Someone the Ax

Happy new year!

If for no other reason than we have to throw out our calendars and open new ones to January once again, New Years celebrations tend to go hand in hand with evaluation (or re-evaluation) of one's life. As far as my writing life went, 2009 was a pretty interesting (and sometimes frustrating) year. Actually, you could say the same thing for my personal life, too. I really learned a lot about the business in 2009, and though I didn't find "success" in terms of a major sale, I continued to fight my way toward Hollywood's door. Hopefully what I went through will help shed some light on your situation or reassure you that you're not the only aspiring screenwriter fighting an uphill battle.


It was just over a year ago that I officially signed with my first manager. I pitched him ideas for follow-up projects to my post-Apocalyptic spec when we met in late December of '08, and I spent my holidays working on the one we settled on. By February, he was transitioning out from the company he was with when I signed with him, and he was making the move to someplace else. Agents and managers hop companies all the time, so that wasn't a red flag for me. I did, however, grow suspicious when he had me emailing his private email because he couldn't tell me where he was going or what the situation was. At the same time, a manager at his former company was embroiled in controversy regarding slander and a lawsuit. I quietly (and not so quietly to The League) hoped that this was why my manager was leaving.


At that point - two months into our manager/client relationship - I didn't have anywhere else to go. My manager had contacts I certainly didn't, and I wasn't an in demand writer. So, when he asked if I would go with him to his new company, I quickly said yes. I had to officially fire the first company, which I did via email (as per my manager's instructions). I hated the place that put me in; after sending the email, his former colleague told me that I had to inform them which projects he had repped me on, where they had been submitted, and that any sale made on them would mean 10% for the old agency. My manager's response when I worriedly asked him how to deal with that - "ignore it."


Things got more and more unsettling. March came, and still no word about where he had transitioned to. In fact, I had very little word from him at all. I enquired about the status of my script a month after he supposedly submitted it nine places, and he said he would check in a week. Finally, a mutual friend who we had submitted my script to emailed me; she'd received an eblast from my manager informing his friends and professional contacts of his new home. Right then, I did two things. I emailed my manager to see if he would finally tell me what was up, and at the same time I googled the new place. The new agency - primarily a literary one - very clearly said "we are not the right place for screenwriters" on its homepage. They repped writers for almost every other medium, but were adamant about that. When my manager did get back to me, he did so with no explanation. All he said was that I should email him at his new address from that point on.


By the beginning of April, I'd had enough. I felt like I was doing more work for myself than he was. It was also right aorund that time that a family friend - Gretchen Somerfeld - read my script. Gretchen's an LA based producer with recognizable credits to her name, and she was into my script. Smartly (though certainly not advisable in many cases), I slipped her the script wihtout going through my manager. I was growing so displeased with his actions that I didn't want to cut him in on 10% of a potential sale made from my direct contacts. Within the span of just a few weeks, I fired my manager, found out that a production company with a first look at Warner Bros had strongly considered my script but ultimately passed on it, and I agreed to work with Gretchen.



May passed by pretty quickly. I scrambled for a lawyer to take a look at the option agreement Gretchen sent me. The phone calls to entertainment lawyers were all over the place. Some of the larger companies refused to have any sort of conversation without a $15K retainer, while others gave what little advice they could before telling me that I would have to pay $200 to $600 an hour to speak further. One junior at one firm actually agreed to look everything over and take me on at the standard 5% of the sale, then got back in touch a week later and said he would have to do it at 7.5%. Finally, I managed to get some help from a very kind woman at the WGAEast. Though she prefaced that she's not a lawyer, she works closely with contracts and option agreements, and she assurred me that my agreement was one of the more favorable she'd seen.


I went on vacation at the end of May, and I signed the agreement with Gretchen upon returning in early June. By signing with Gretchen, I also acquired a manager in Kevin D. - Gretchen's manager who would rep me for the project (and then potentially longer, based on our work together for the first spec). With that, the re-writes began. The first major change was the title. For the record, I either hate titling my scripts, or I love it. A title can make or break interest in a project (and sometimes a project itself), so unless I get a great one, I'd rather hit myself in the crotch than give my baby an unworthy title. 


After weeks of waffling and tossing while trying to fall asleep, I settled on a new title that Gretchen and Kevin both really liked. Kevin started talking the script up to a few people around town, while I spent the summer re-writing. The script underwent some major changes, finally settling into its second real incarnation by the third week of September. 


We sent it out to a few places, including giving an exclusive to the production company with the Warner Bros deal that passed in the Spring. Since I'm an unknown writer, my "team" and I agreed to try and attach an agent first, and then go wide. Unfortunately, after a long day at work, I found out that the production company passed a second time, and the agents we were hoping to hear from either hadn't read or also passed. 


Finally, in October, a bite! Another production company, this one with a first look at Universal, was interested. The head producer (Oscar nominated) hadn't yet been made aware of the script, but one of his right hand people had read and liked it. She had some notes, which would ultimately send the script into its third major revision, but was offering us an exclusive deal. In a money-less handshake agreement, we agreed that I would do re-writes per her notes. If she liked the new draft (which she has not gotten yet), then it was off to the producer and, fingers crossed, to Universal with an A-list producer attached. I've been working on the new version since, and just about finished the first stab at the revised Act Two today.


So, 2009 has been quite the rollercoaster ride. I don't mean to belabor my first failed management experience, but I do think that it's important for all new writers to know that they don't have to take someone's crap just because they're unproduced. Don't get me wrong - the key to my relationship with Gretchen and Kevin so far has been my willingness to work with them and take their feedback, and I'm sure they'd tell you the same. On the other hand, though, if a working relationship isn't, well, working, then you're not obligated to stay in it. This is your career, so you have to do what's best for that. And for you. 


All in all, though I didn't make a sale and am not yet an in-demand writer, I would say that 2009 was a very good year for me. I got closer than I have ever been to launching my screenwriting career, and I did manager to land on a few people's radar, if only for a few minutes even. I've been working on this post-Apocalyptic spec for two years now, and I know there's still a lot of work to go. 

So please, if you take nothing else away from this post, take these two things: work well with others, but make sure that they're working well for you, and be patient. Some people might have the great fortune of being a legitimate overnight sensation, but if you read between the lines in most articles on "overnight" screenwriters, you'll see that they worked in the industry (as a producer, reader, grip, caterer, etc.) for years and had been writing for more years than that. 


May 2010 be yours and my best Writing Year yet!

The Writing Week (Vol. 2) part 81 - My Script Isn't Perfect (And Neither is Yours)

Every script has kinks. That's just something we have to accept as writers. Evey draft we turn in (to our writers groups, to agents, to producers, to studios) will have some shortcoming or issue. Those issues can (and will) be resolved. While we should all strive for perfection, I think that it's important to realize that perfection isn't probably. This will help more down the line than in the immediate. (This also doesn't mean that you should settle for writing a crappy script.) I'll explain.

First drafts are bound to be rocky. It goes without saying that your plot is liable to change, your characters will develop (or disappear), and the story will smooth itself out. The whole point of that first draft is to lay the foundation and realize what else you need and what you can scrap. Later down the line, though, if your scripts has taken that next step to getting produced (you've landed representation or had it optioned), you'll want to remember that it's still not perfect - at least, you will if you're like me.

With the initial excitement about attracting representation came an unwanted (though luckily short-lived) feeling of assumed untouchable quality of my spec. Someone wants to rep me and send my script out? I'm on top of the world, and the script is a killer. Come down off that high horse quickly, though, because that excitement the rep/producer shows will be quickly accompanied by notes. Lots of notes. (You already know how I had to change my intro, second act, and title.) If you want to play ball and get as much mileage out of that first big potential opportunity as possible, then accept that your script needs work. Truth be told, I'm a bit surprised by how quickly I bought into the idea that my spec needed work; then again, I had a nagging feeling that I'd get one more note that shook all the pieces into place even before I started querying.

Bottom line: be proud of your work and don't send it out until you know it's strong. At the same time, keep an open mind about changes you'll be asked to make, and just figure out a way to incorporate them in a way that suits you (or know when to fight against them). The ink dried on my option in large part because I was so upfront about my willingness to rework my script. After all, it wasn't perfect.

The Writing Week (Vol. 2) part 75 - Option and Conference Call

It never ceases to amaze me how rapidly modern transportation can shoot someone around the world. I woke up in Spain on Thursday morning, and within 12 hours of take off from the Pablo Picasso Airport in Malaga, I was downing beers with most of the League down on the Bowery. But I wasn’t just coming back for beer (they have that in Spain, I’d have stayed abroad if that was the only reason). No, as good as beer is, I had another reason. I had managed to pop onto my email a few times while overseas, and did two key things: I accepted the revised option agreement from a producer who wants my post-Apocalyptic spec, and I set a call for Friday evening with the producer and her manager.

Friday night, after two 16 ounce coffees and a few cans of soda (jetlag was beginning to set in with a vengeance), I sat down for my preset call. At just past 8pm EST, the phone rang. On the other end: producer Gretchen Somerfeld and manager Kevin Donahue. With the option agreement in the mail, it was time to get down to business. The point of the call was script notes, and we got down to business with little chit chat beforehand.

All in all, the notes were very easy to stomach. I’d gotten a lot of positive feedback from professional readers (at management companies and prod cos) who had seen the script, and had been told more than once that the draft I had was pretty solid, especially for a newbie’s spec. Nonetheless, no one had picked it up yet, so there was undoubtedly work to be done. Basically, I managed to write something that most creative execs and managers have told me would cost between $70 and $100 million to make. Not a small sum, especially for an unproduced writer. While the script is strong, it is not perfect, and in order for a studio to cough up that sum, it needs to be.

One of the issues with the script as is is that it builds slowly. I don’t mean to imply that it takes a long time to get into the script – hell, it starts with a body falling off a roof – but for a high budget action, it opens small. The producer and manager want to see it open with a bang, a chase or fight, something that gets the heart pumping 30 seconds in while also establishing the world. Whereas Gladiator opens with a battle, I opened my script with the aftermath. So, one major change will be a reworking of the first ten pages.

Next, I also have to focus a lot on long scenes, especially long because of dialogue, and make sure that the action remains throughout. I tend to overwrite dialogue for two reasons: I love writing it and I’m never sure if the reader gets what I want them to from the scene. However, as any screenwriter knows, dialogue can be a good script’s enemy. Though I will do my best to focus on the dialogue and cutting the script down where I can, Gretchen will also be working with me on it.

The notes kept coming, but for the most part, I was able to almost instantly get on board with them. I really think that they’ll help sell the script. That does not necessarily mean that they are working toward my original vision for the script. However, Hollywood is a game, and the one I’m playing now requires me to write the most saleable script, even if it’s a bit more mindless than what I originally intended. I will probably have to cut some of the layers that I was hoping to include, but can already admit that they weren’t working. With any luck, though, if the script sells and a director is attached, I’ll be able to work with him or her to get some of my ideas reincorporated. Right now, though, I’m doing everything I can to turn it into a payday.

The Writing Week (Vol. 2) part 70 – In Talks to Option

Last Tuesday I had breakfast with a woman whose parents bought my grandmother’s house from my family. More importantly to me, she is also a producer with multiple projects in development at the moment. She read my post-Apocalyptic spec. And she liked it. She wants it.

As with most things in the film industry – at least for those of us trying to break into it – there was waiting involved. I was growing more and more disenchanted with the job that my then manager was doing, so, with the help of my aunt, I sent my script to the producer’s father. He is also a writer and was one of the first people to read one of my screenplays – he read the second feature length script I ever wrote back when I was in high school. So, he read and, once he did, recommended it to his busy daughter. Cut to a few weeks later, I’ve dropped my representation, and my phone rings. It’s the producer (whose name, you can tell, I’m withholding for the time being), and she wants to option the script. She’s based in LA, but is heading to the City in a few weeks for the Tribeca Film Festival. We set a breakfast meeting for Tuesday, April 28.

At that point, I still had potential interest in my script at a prod co that has a first look deal with WB. I didn’t want to lost the great opportunity of an option – this producer had optioned another basically unknown writer’s material, got him an agent, got him a $500K sale, and got his movie made. However, I also had a major potential opportunity that could lead to Warner Brothers. Luckily, my contact there is also a friend, so I was able to email her my updates and ask semi-indirectly if anything was going to happen with my script on her end. She advised me to go with the option, since it just wasn’t the right time to take my scrip to WB.

So, with all that resolved, I went to the breakfast meeting last week. Mind you, even though this producer is a family friend, this was the first such meeting I’ve had and I wanted to treat it as I would any other. We met at a café for breakfast – nothing simple, bagel for me, eggs for her – and did the brief “how are you, what have you been up to” chat before jumping into a pretty frank discussion on the script and what we would do to move forward with it.

She liked the script, but, as I found with everyone else who had read it, had some notes that would need to be addressed before she went forward with it. Her manager had also read the script, and if I was willing to do some rewrites, he would send me his notes. (He would also become my manager at that point.) The manager had already made a call to one of the companies the script was submitted to earlier, just to get a feel for how it was received.

In order to resubmit to certain companies – companies that liked the script but thought it needed some work before they would really consider picking it up – I would also have to change the title, since no one will read something that their records show they already passed on. The big question of the morning, then, was three-fold: would I do rewrites, would I change the title, at least for the time being, and did I have a follow-up script I could send ASAP? My answer was an immediate and honest triple yes.

There’s some debate in “how-to” books and websites on whether a writer should pursue an option. Some of the reasoning against it seems to go, “if someone wants your material, they should just buy it; otherwise, you risk winding up with a script that everyone has read and no one wants, i.e. a dead script.” I don’t subscribe to this belief. Why pass up an opportunity to work with someone who not only likes your material, but thinks that they can get a picture made out of it? Especially as a young writer, that is second only to actually making a sale – and hopefully that will come in the next year, before the option expires. I’ll keep you all informed.